Weakness
by Athena02
Summary: It's not always easy to push the darkness away...Lara fights against an unknown enemy without knowing why, forced to face her demons with every step as the world tears itself apart.
1. The Shadow Inside

          Weakness

          Athena02

          Athena_o2@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: Tomb Raider, Lara Croft, her image and likeness are trademark and copyright © of EIDOS Interactive and Core Design. No infringement to these copyrights is intended. 

Author's note: This is just a tiny little scene that kept begging to be written. I might add it into a larger work I'm thinking about starting, but we'll have to see…

          ~~~~~

          Winston Jeeves' shoulders slumped as he sighed heavily to himself, watching as a lithe figure dressed entirely in black racing leathers swung onto the motorcycle waiting on the gravel drive. Kickstarting it in one smooth motion, the figure roared down the drive, peeling through the iron gates and turning out of sight with a screech of tires on wet pavement. 

          Shuffling away from where he had been peering through the window, the butler's thoughts were in a turmoil, worry snaking through his insides. He may only be her servant, but he could not deny that he felt somewhat protective of her. 

          _But did she really feel that she needed to take the Triple?, he lamented inwardly as he slowly made his way up the stairs. _

          She'd been distant and withdrawn since returning from her latest expedition a week ago. He'd certainly seen similar moods before—when she'd come back from a particularly close call or betrayal—but never anything like this. He let her have the space she clearly wanted, but kept a paternal eye on her. He knew that she was not the type to discuss what was bothering her, what she had seen, but watching her run like a madwoman on her assault course, pummeling the bags in her gym, battered his very soul as he ached to know what could affect her that much. 

          He sighed again. She was certainly reckless, but even more so on the Triple. He just prayed that she made it back home in one piece, and with fewer demons flitting around her head.

          ~~~~~

          Lara Croft gritted her teeth as her hand crushed the throttle of her Triumph Speed Triple against the handlebars as if she could will the already redlining bike to go even faster. The green English countryside whirled by her in a smear of green and grey, but she only had eyes for the road ahead, narrowing her focus to the asphalt as it raced up to her in an effort to clear her mind.

          It didn't work, and the images continued playing in her head with a vengeance. 

          _She had crouched behind the altar of the small church as soon as she'd heard the shouting in the streets. Peering around the corner of the stone, her Berettas gripped tightly, she could see the yelling figures through the gaping hole in the building's bombed-out front. One of the soldiers held the baby by the foot, laughing as he tossed it to his comrade. From the limp way it flew through the air, Lara could tell that it was dead. The soldiers laughed when another one of their friends failed to catch their macabre ball, his rifle getting in the way of his hands. The small body landed in the ashen mud with a sickening splat._

_          With an inward snarl, Lara banished the image from her head, trying to focus on anything else. She'd seen death before; she'd certainly killed. She made no noble pretense about her deadly actions, she did what she had to do to survive. She'd accepted the fact that she dealt out death to those who would try to bring it to her, but she was certainly not a murderer. _

          But she couldn't understand why the same events were playing in her head, over and over again. Why there was a sickening  feeling in the depths of her stomach. Why she felt so numb, empty inside.

          Angry with herself, she bent into the wind, driving ever forward. The pack on her back shifted slightly, and she could feel the metal of the small statue poking her in the back, a reminder of the price she'd paid and the debt she still carried.

          ~~~~~

          The bartender's deep brown eyes met Lara's as soon as she stepped into the dimly bar, yet he said nothing, only nodding to her as she sat down on one of the bar stools. He remained silent as he placed a glass of scotch in front of her before moving on to a group of college-age men holding a boisterous conversation at the other end of the bar. She took a sip of the scotch, barely tasting the alcohol as it slid down her throat.

          She was contemplating the merits of getting absolutely smashed when the taste of the scotch turned to iron as the images flooded back into her brain.

          _A horrible shriek rent the air as soon as the body hit the mud, so chilling that Lara felt as if the very marrow of her bones had instantly frozen. A woman ran up the soldiers, slamming into one of them and pummeling him futilely with her fists. His companions laughed again, dragging her off of him. She screamed at them, hysterically cursing at them as tears ran down her dirt-streaked face. _

_          Lara felt a ball of dark inevitability ball up in her stomach. She slowly stood up from behind the altar, Berettas gripped tightly in her hands as she crept towards the tableau in the street. The soldiers in the street in front of her didn't notice the figure stalking closer, too busy roughly tossing the remnants of the woman's clothing to the ground._

_          She crouched behind the last row of pews, taking aim at the laughing soldier who was pushing the woman to the ground. She would have to make this quick: the area was crawling with militia soldiers who would do the exact thing to her if they caught her. _

_          A tiny part of Lara whispered to give up on playing the hero and just grab what she'd come for. Shooting these men would make her job harder, narrowing the odds. But there were some things she couldn't just stand by and watch._

_          Her fingers tightened on the triggers, her leg muscles gathering for the burst of power that would send her racing into the street like some kind of avenging seraphim…_

_          …when three more soldiers came running up, laughing as they joined in the macabre scene. _

_          She sank back into the shadowy rubble of the church, her stomach clenched in disgusted horror as she turned away._

_          Ten minutes later, the statue in her backpack, she was making her way out of the church. She did everything she could, but her eyes were still drawn to the blood soaked, motionless body lying in the street. _

_          She shook her head, snarling inwardly to herself to get moving before the militia caught up to her._

_          "Hey….you awake there?"_

          The vision suddenly cleared from Lara's mind, her eyes snapping into focus. The bartender was waving his hand in front of her face, corners of his lips turned up in a ghost of a smile.

          "I'm closing up now," he said, studying her.

          "Good," she replied absentmindedly, eyes following  him as he locked the door, turning the sign in the window before returning to the bar to toss a handful of empty bottles in the bin. 

          Lara just studied him as he moved around. He was tall, square-jawed with a slight bump on his nose for evidence that it had been broken once or twice in the past. His brown hair was short, with a slight wave to it. He was built solidly, the play of muscles in his arms and shoulders visible as he wiped down the bar. 

          Lara's eyes flicked away as he looked at her, studying the pictures on the wall. The young man in them wore a goalkeeper's uniform in most of them, looking intense as he stood or dove upon the football pitch. She looked back at the man: the same, yet different.

          _How things change…._

          The man gave the bar one last swipe with a cloth before her stood across from Lara, planting his hands on the teak surface and looking straight at her.

          "I haven't seen you in a while," his voice was warm but solemn.

          "I've been busy," she answered, "Out of the country a lot"

          "You were at the auction today?" he called out, coming out from behind the bar to stand beside her. 

          "Yes." Despite all her mental barriers, a dark cloud appeared on her features, her tone bitter. "Another three-quarters of a million pounds richer."

          "But it wasn't worth it, whatever happened." He put a firm hand on her shoulder, looking into her eyes, reading the pain and weariness there.

          But there was no judgment, no condemnation in his own eyes. Maddox may be able to read her soul, but he knew not to judge it. 

          She closed her eyes as he leaned over to kiss her, the heat and life of him seeping into from her lips to the numb emptiness in her soul.

          They didn't say anything as they made their way upstairs. Lara pushed away the hurt, the numbness, focusing only on each moment as it happened.

          ~~~~~


	2. A Visitor

            She awoke to the sound of rain thrumming against the windows, glinting like shards of ice in the weak light from a lone streetlamp below. For one tiny second, her mind was blank, staring with dark eyes at the pouring rain outside.

And then it all came flooding back, hitting her like a hammer in the face.

She sat up slowly, looking to her left. Maddox was still there, sleeping with his bare back to her. He didn't stir as she reached out a gentle finger to trace the arcing scar that curved around his ribs, the feeling of his fingers tracing her own scars rising up from her recent memory. 

She pulled her hand back as if burned when The Woman's shrieks rang in her ears, screaming until the moment her throat was cut.

Tasting the now-familiar iron tang in her mouth, Lara slipped from the bed, not making a sound as she padded across the room to her clothes.

"Leaving so soon?"

Lara spun instinctively at the unfamiliar voice coming from behind her, coiled and ready to strike.

She could see the dim outline of a man sitting on a trunk in the corner, watching him warily as he stood. She said nothing, watching cautiously as the man stepped closer to her, coming into the dim light in the center of the room. 

He was as tall as Maddox and lean. His light brown hair was mussed, its bleached ends scattered haphazardly, his blue eyes glinting mischievously. The beginnings of an impish grin graced his lips, offsetting the street tough clothing he wore and doing nothing to calm Lara's racing heart.

"If this is modern love, I can see why you're all hopeless." He took another step forward, just barely out of Lara's striking range. 

"Who are you?" she hissed, alternately watching the man's hands and eyes.

He noticed where she was looking, the position of her body, and let out a brief chuckle. "Not a chance, Lara Croft, I know what you're trying to do." He put his hands up, looking absolutely serious. "I'm not going to hurt you; I'm just a messenger." He smiled wryly at that last bit.

Lara didn't step down in the slightest, studying his eyes for a moment. She could see the truth and sincerity in them and straightened. But she kept her weight on the balls of her feet, ready to attack or defend herself. 

Her eyes narrowed. "A messenger? From who?"

The man pursed his lips. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you."

Only partly in a show of defiance, she turned her back to him, slipping a shirt on over her head. Her gaze flickered to her boots, leaning against the wall a few feet in front of her. She inched toward them, estimating how long it would take for her to reach them and the knife sheathed in the left boot.

"Try me," she said, stalling for time.

She could hear the man's wry grin. "Look out the window."

Lara found herself driven to comply, and felt her jaw drop slightly when she realized what she was looking at.

The raindrops were frozen in their slide down the window, gleaming like captured pearls. A jagged lightening bolt was equally still in the dark sky, looking like some bright tear in the black sky, its light reflecting off of the thousands of raindrops suspended in the air. 

"What the hell…?" Lara murmured, turning back to face the man. "Who are you?" she asked again.

"It doesn't matter," he said dismissively. He was utterly serious as he took a step toward her. "You need to listen very carefully. That statue you sold at the auction…you need to get it back. It was never meant to be among you anyway."

Lara felt a ripple of loathing pass over her at the thought. "If you can do that," she tilted her head in the direction of the window, "I think you can get it back yourself."

The ever-present twinkle in the mans' eyes dimmed slightly. "Centuries ago, we could have. Now…." The dullness was replaced by a steely look. "Return it, Lara Croft, and you'll be saving quite a few lives. Including your own." The way he said the last sentence sounded more like a threat than a simple statement.

A thunderous crack rang out and white light blinded her momentarily as the world sped back into motion, lightening making the air crackle with energy. By the time Lara's vision cleared, the man was gone.

            ~~~~~ 


	3. Necessary Evils

            "I'm sorry, Ms. Croft, but Gryner will not be able to see you right now. Perhaps you'd like to make an appointment?"

            Lara forced herself not to grit her teeth noticeably, hiding her exasperation with the bottle-blonde receptionist smugly perched behind the desk in front of her. 

            "It's important that I see him; there's an issue that has come up with an object he purchased at auction yesterday." Lara tried to let a faint look of urgency cast over her cool features, hoping to make the secretary think it was an emergency.

            Well, maybe it was…

            She spared a glance at the security guard standing next to the metal detector in the expansive lobby's entrance. She had sworn for one second that his features had blurred as she walked in, looking exactly like the young man who had…appeared…in Maddox's room. He didn't see her looking at him, his obviously Hispanic features looking bored. 

            "If you would like to schedule a tentative appointment for…" the woman briefly glanced at something on her computer screen, "…the twenty-fifth, I might be able to get you a few moments with him." She looked up with false expectation.

            Lara really had to fight from gritting her teeth. She wasn't going to wait for another day, much less nearly a month. 

            "It's vital that I see him now," Lara said. Coupled with a pair of Beretta 9mm's and a dark alley, her tone would have—and had—scared off the toughest street thug.

            The other woman leaned forward, cocking her head to the side and offering a frozen smile. 

            "Ms. Croft, even if you wanted to give him the cure for cancer you wouldn't be able to see him. Now, unless you make an appointment for the twenty-fifth, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Her eyes slid to a point behind Lara and she knew that the security guard was getting a very meaningful look. 

            Lara gave her an equally cool smile. "Fine then. Thank you for your help." She didn't bother to cover up the sarcasm. After all, wasn't that a prerogative of the aristocracy?

            She gave the guard a cool glance as she left the lobby, making her way down the crowded sidewalk to her car. 

            She'd tried the polite way. Now it was time to get what she wanted.

            ~~~~~

            Lara shivered as the cold night air blew across her face, carrying wisps of steam away from the vents on the roof. She looked around cautiously, hands resting on the grips of the handguns at her side, fingers fairly twitching in readiness.

            She peered around a bit, listening to the wind lightly rattle the rooftop antennas until she was satisfied that she was alone. Her quiet caution turned to fluid speed as she snapped the quick releases on the harness connecting her to the grapple line, letting it drop to the ground. She gave the line a tug, making sure that it was still connected to the next building over; Lara had learned a long time ago that it never hurt to double-check your way out.

            She was through flimsy lock on the roof access door in a minute, her booted feet making only the slightest whisper on the concrete steps in front of her. She moved cautiously, into a small maintence room and then following a door into the elevator shafts. She briefly consulted the bits of the building map she had memorized earlier and walked across the metal grate walkway to one of the empty shafts, pulling a few bits of gear from one of the many pockets in her tight-fitting flightsuit. A second later she had clipped onto the elevator cable, stepping out into the shaft and hanging in midair. She stayed there, barely twisting on the cable, listening for the slightest sound. 

            All was quiet, and she began moving down the cable hand over hand, quickly zipping down the core of the tall building. A dozen floors down she came to a halt, quickly unclipping herself with one hand and reaching out with her legs to secure a foothold on the access walkway. A bit of a flip and she was on the grate, both pistols  in hand. 

            It was pretty simple after that. The lock into the building itself was laughingly simple, and the security cameras at the corner of each hallway took practiced timing and patience—both of which Lara had in abundance. Minutes later she was in a security room, snipping select wires.

            She slipped the cutters back into her pocket, walking easily down the hallway, her boots whispering on the plush carpet as she scanned the nameplates on the office doors. Her lips quirked up in a tiny smile when she found the door she was looking for, reading the brass nameplate on the double oak doors. She was through the lock in another instant, looking around the expansive office. 

            One thing that chasing after rare artifacts had taught Lara was how to ransack an office. It was far too easy to just make a mess, missing subtle clues entirely. In order to get results, you had to know what to look for, what the inhabitant was like. 

            Lara pursed her lips, her eyes flying to the ancient Greek amphora, still decorated with scenes of Hercules' exploits on it, sitting in a glass case between the desk and large window overlooking the city. 

            Close, but too obvious.

            She looked around again, eyes raking over the desk, coming to rest on a small figurine on the corner. It was of a youth wearing winged sandals, outstretched and holding a staff in his hand. A small engraved plaque was set in the base: "Apollo".

            Gryner was such an avid collector that the fake stood out like a beacon.

            She took a step forward, picking up the statue with a gloved hand. Turning it over, she noticed a small black button recessed into the bottom of the base, pressing it while looking around warily.

            A section of the wall behind the desk swung inward with a faint click, exposing a safe the size of a walk-in closet. Lara stepped toward it, still cautious as she pulled out a mini Maglite, shining it into the safe's depths. The small metal alcove was lined with metal shelves covered with glass: illuminated with soft lighting. Various objects, all ancient Greek or Roman in nature, were laid out like museum displays within the cases.

            But Lara only had eyes for the small statue sitting in a case all by itself in the back of the safe. She felt a chill run down her spine and shrugged it off, telling herself not to be irrational. Pulling out a small glass-cutter, she cut a hole in the side of the case, just big enough for her to pull the statue out of.

            It was heavy in her hands, probably made of solid lead or copper. It was poor craftsmanship, but Lara could easily see that it was supposed to be a female form, holding a spear against her side. Simple in design, it certainly didn't look all that important. 

            Lara didn't contemplate it any further, stuffing the small statue into her pack and trying to ignore the brief, ugly feeling of déjà vu that she felt as she stepped out of the safe, pushing the black button on the other figurine. She replaced the figuring back on the desk once the safe door eased shut again, quickly moving across the large office.

             Her hand had just come to rest on the knob of the heavy oak door, when it burst inward, nearly smashing into her face and forcing her to scramble backwards as a powerful white light shone right in her eyes, fouling her night vision and blinding her.

            "Stop right there!" Lara could hear familiar metal-on-plastic sounds: automatic weapons being zeroed in on a target.

            On her.

            For one second time seemed to slow as her hands came up, squinting into the light, trying to make out the blurry silhouettes in front of her.

            "Grab 'er," someone muttered, and Lara heard someone walking towards her, making out one of the silhouettes coming closer. She knew he was holding a weapon on her, and she stayed perfectly still.

            Until he grabbed her wrist, trying to get her under control.

            She easily turned the tables, grabbing him by the throat and forcing him between the silhouettes and herself just before she leapt up into the air, spinning sideways in a tight arc.

            Automatic gunfire opened up with a roar, a wall of lead pouring into the confined office, shredding everything in its path…

~~~~~


	4. Freefall

            Lara landed in a crouch, springing to her feet just after the first outburst of fire died down. She knew she didn't have much time before they stormed the room, leaving her with nowhere to go.  

            The man Lara had used as a human shield let out a low moan, holding his hands to his stomach as he crumpled to the ground, a pool of crimson growing around him. She ignored him, rapidly stepping alongside him towards the open doors, hugging the wall and trying to stay out of sight. A second later she was slightly hidden from view behind the open doors, ready to spring out at anyone who came through the door, fingers tight on the triggers.

            Lara's muscles ached with the effort of standing, coiled to strike, as six combat-equipped men stepped into the office, weapons scanning the room in front of them, ready to fire at the first sign of movement. She stood stock-still, barely breathing, waiting as the group of men made their way deeper into the office, unaware that she was behind them.

            She waited until they took another step and then….

            _Now.___

_            She ran forward, taking down two of the men with her Berettas. She drove her knee into the thigh of the first man she reached, smashing him in the face with the butt of one of her pistols just before she hooked her foot around his ankle, bringing him to the ground, unconscious, all in less than ten seconds._

            Three to one. Better odds, but the last few seconds of surprise were slipping away from her. They brought their weapons around: at this close of a range, there was no way that they could miss.

            She fired off another group of shots in their general direction as she dove to the floor, tightly rolling closer and to the side. The commandos didn't expect her to move towards them, and their bullets missed her by a good four feet. Two of them spared a glance at their comrade, who was gurgling and kicking as he toppled to the floor, a spurting hole in his throat. 

            One of them turned his gaze back in front of him, his eyes widening as the woman popped up right in front of him, grabbing the collar of his uniform with one hand and jerking him closer to her. His instincts kicked in and he tried to bring the muzzle of his tactical shotgun down, but the range was too close. He let out a soft grunt as he felt the hard metal of a muzzle poke into his stomach, just between the gap in his body armor, the soft sound drowned out by the sound of the muzzle report.

            Lara's eyes widened as she saw the cold barrel of the last commando's Colt M4 zero in between her eyes. She brought one of her Berettas to bear, but felt her heart freeze when she saw that the slide was locked back. Empty.

            Quick reflexes were the only thing that saved her as she tightened her fist on the dying commando's uniform, ducking down a little and driving him forward into his companion. The other man's aim was thrown off, and the bullets stitched a line into the carpet barely six inches from her foot.

            She ran forward before he could think about getting another shot off, throwing a high kick that sent the M4 clattering out of his hands to the ground. Instead of freezing in surprise like his fellows, he took a step towards her with a snarl, grabbing onto the wrist of her gun hand and squeezing with a vise-like grip. Lara could feel the bones of her wrist grind together, so close to breaking that it took every last bit of willpower to keep her grip on the gun. 

            She struck back quickly, shooting her hand out for a hard heel-palm right to his face while her knee came up and towards the side of his. He managed to throw up a forearm, blocking her hand, but her knee connected with his, making it collapse briefly and putting most of his weight on one leg. Yet his grip didn't loosen on her wrist, trying to wrest away control of the weapon.

            Lara took advantage of the opportunity presented by his shift in body weight, placing her left leg behind his right and driving forward into him, forcing him to the ground, hoping to open up some distance between them for a fatal blow.

            Instead of completely losing his balance, the man grabbed Lara's gunbelt with his free hand, twisting her wrist even more, the bones making a popping sound as he brought her down to the ground with him. Pain exploded in her wrist and hand, forcing her to drop the Beretta, where it bounced across the floor out of reach. 

            She managed to drive her knee into his inner thigh as she fell, driving her weight into a pressure point, but he barely seemed to notice, throwing up an elbow that almost caught her in the throat—a professional move. She was running on pure adrenaline now, relying on years of training to keep her alive. Ignoring the pain in her hand, she leaned forward, hands outstretched, to gouge out the man's eyes, but he saw the blow coming, shifting his head out of the way so that her hands landed to the side, barely scratching his cheek. And then he hit back.

            Black briefly flooded Lara's vision as his fist connected with the side of her head. The sheer power of it was enough to knock her off of him, sending her sprawling to the floor, her vision briefly swimming. Something angular and hard poked into her side.

            She'd landed on the Beretta.

            The man quickly hauled himself to his feet as Lara got on her hands and knees, head pounding. He wasted no time on trying to recover his weapon and charged her, yelling ferociously.

            Lara was just regaining her feet when he reached her, his hands closing around her throat and squeezing with an iron grip as he hauled her to her feet.

            "Thought you'd get me?" he hissed, eyes blazing. She could only gag, trying to fight for breath as he ran forward, forcing her backwards.

            Lara pulled the trigger, the report deafening. And pulled it again. And again.

            The man, staggered, his eyes going wide as the slugs ripped into his chest and stomach.

            A second later, forced by the dying man's momentum, Lara felt the back of her legs hit the low wall, making her fall backwards against the huge pane glass window. She screamed instinctually as the glass shattered, plummeting through the air, the commando's loosening grip bringing him with her.

            Lara was still screaming as she fell, the stories quickly passing by alongside her in a blur. Then they slammed into a protruding balcony and everything was silent.


	5. Memory, Reality, and a Dream

A/N: I warned, you, but this is dark and violent. Your average movie, but this is one of those stories that begs to be written. And listen to trance, it's good stuff.

V-Memory, Reality, and a Dream

_She was running through the woods, trying desperately to stay ahead of the militia squad as they chased behind her, firing bursts from their automatic weapons whenever they caught sight of her through the trees._

_            Lara could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her legs burning from the sustained sprint as fallen sticks grabbed at her ankles, the half-melted remnants of the winter snow crunching beneath her feet. Her breath was entirely too loud in her ears, a cloud of vapor streaming out in front of her face with each exhalation. The air was getting colder as the sun set; another half-hour and she would be trying to find her way back to her jeep in the dark._

_            One of the rebels, thinking he had a clear shot, let loose a spray of rounds. Bark fragmented next to Lara's head, and she ducked involuntarily, willing her legs to move her through the dense forest a little faster._

_            But she knew she couldn't outrun them, not when they'd followed her for this long. Her eyes flicked wildly from side to side, looking for a place to make her stand as the sound of a helicopter somewhere overhead grew closer…_

_            The first thing Lara felt wasn't pain, quite its opposite. Gentle fingers were stroking her cheek, almost like her mother used to when she was a young child. Back in happier times... It made her feel warm and relaxed, ignoring the dull pain that she could feel throughout her body, as if she were on heavy morphine._

            She opened her eyes slowly, widening them in surprise when she recognized the person attached to the hand at her cheek. She would have sat up in surprise, but her body didn't respond, almost as if she were stuck in gelatin. Even her wrist, broken in the fight, didn't hurt.

            That was when a fearful thought cut through her mental haze, chilling her to the core.

            Her voice was a whisper when it escaped her lips, sounding weak.

            "Am I dead?" The words felt foreign on her tongue, as they should be. 

            The young man who had frozen the sky in Maddox's bedroom looked down at her, a soft smile on his face. His eyes glinted in the dim light of the city lights, the brightness tempered by dark sadness. "No."

            She tried to sit up again but didn't even twitch. Her heart froze in greater fear. To her, there were few things worse than death…

            "Paralyzed?"

            He didn't say anything, his eyes darkening, looking sad as he bit his lip, looking at her body and then back to her eyes. She saw the truth in them and felt her insides unravel into a million pieces, wanting to scream and vomit at the same time. 

            For the first time in a very, very long while, Lara Croft wanted to cry.

            His eyes captured hers, mesmerizing as his hand came back up to touch her cheek, reassuring. 

            "Hey, don't give up on me. We still need you." His voice was soft.

            Lara felt a wave of bitter despair build within her mind, threatening to overwhelm her.

            _Paralyzed.__ I'm no good to anyone anymore. The words echoed in her mind._

            "No." The young man looked at her with an overwhelming intensity. "Don't ever think that, Lara." He looked up at the night sky as if searching for something before he looked back into her eyes. "I want you to go to sleep now, Lara. It'll be fine in the morning, you'll see." He grinned impishly.

            Despite every fiber of her body telling her not to, despite the fact that she probably had a serious head injury, despite the emotional whirlwind ripping through her, Lara let her eyes slide closed, trusting the young man and falling back into the comforting void.

            She ran through a dark forest in her dreams, exulting in the feel of her legs carrying her swiftly over the pine covered dirt, the trees whipping behind her. She grinned at the feel of the breeze on her face as she leapt over a log without breaking stride, unaware of the shadows chasing behind her…

            ~~~~~

            Ten stories below, on the city sidewalk, a security operative scooped the small metal statue of a woman off of the concrete, inspecting it critically. Amazed that there wasn't even a scratch on it, he keyed his radio.

            "I've got the statue, but still no sign of the woman."

            "Keep looking; she's gotta be splattered all over the place down there. And bring that statue up here, ASAP. Mr. Gryner wants it locked back up."

            "Yessir," the operative replied, gripping the statue in one hand as he reentered the building.


	6. Twilight Madness

            VI-Twilight Madness

            Nicholas Gryner took a last drag off of his clove cigarette, holding the butt between his fingers as he turned around, frowning slightly.

            "You do realize, dear, that all your whining is getting very tiresome." He flung the butt behind him before stepping off the balcony into his suite, closing the sliding glass door on the chill of the San Francisco evening.

            The woman chained to the bed strained against her bonds, gray eyes burning with hate and fury as she spat out curses in her ancient language. She fought even harder as Gryner drew closer, ignoring the painful bruises that had already appeared on the coppery skin beneath the manacles.

            His lips quirked upwards in a smile as he stood above her, reaching out a finger to stroke her sepia hair. She was beautiful, true, but he knew better than to push _that limit… Besides, the power within her was far more alluring than her beauty._

            He turned his back to her, another flurry of curses flying his way as he studied the wall of TV monitors before him. He sighed, throwing back a threat of his own in the ancient tongue. He crossed his arms in satisfaction as the woman fell quiet.

            Gryner pursed his lips as he studied the newscasters on the screen. The past twenty-four hours had turned into quite a news day. Maps of the Middle East flashed on some of the screens, generals and politicians on others, frightened citizens on one, footage of planes taking off from a carrier deck and bombing victims on a few.

            Tensions. Conflict. Standoff. The words ran circles in Gryner's head, inspiring anything but fear. 

            He turned back to face the woman, his eyes boring into her anger-filled ones.

            "I think it's time that we ended our little standoff and broadened the scope of things. Lets say," his finger twirled in the air for a moment, "North Korea. If troops started crossing the DMZ, things could quickly escalate out of control…"

            The woman said nothing, her lips pressed together in a thin line, her body stiff in rejection. 

            Gryner was at the side of the bed in an instant, full of simmering anger. The Smith and Wesson handgun was in his hand in a flash, the muzzle resting against the woman's temple. 

            "Do it," he whispered through gritted teeth.

            The woman trembled as if her mind were resisting some sort of intrusive force, her eyes blazing with even more hatred.

            "I don't have to remind you that if I splatter your brains all over this bed, that's it. You won't survive that, here. A million years of life, then bang! Nothing." He leered down at her, shoving the cold weapon against her skin. She barely twitched, looking at him.

            "Do it!" he roared. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the sound of his voice.

            He screamed as he tilted his wrist, pulling the trigger.

            Gryner replaced the muzzle beside her head, looking pointedly at the scorched bullet hole in the headboard, inches away from the woman's head. 

            "Don't think for a second that I'll spare you again. Do. It."

            Every muscle in the woman's body clenched as she tried to resist whatever was going on in her head. Then she went limp, her eyes snapping wide open, the chains to her manacles clinking against each other.

            Gryner smiled gleefully, straightening as he replaced the handgun in his coat pocket. He faced the TVs, nearly holding his breath as he waited…

            Barely five minutes passed until the newscaster on CNN held a hand to her earpiece before relaying her terrible message to the world: fighting in Korea, the DMZ was a battlefield. Another thirty seconds passed before every newscaster was talking hurriedly, tickers along the bottoms of the screens exploding in a frenzy of bold type. 

            His smile grew as he spared a glance for the woman on the bed, his fingers brushing against the small metal statue in his other coat pocket.

            The entire world was rushing unimpeded toward total war.

            Behind him, the woman on the bed stared up at the ceiling, unblinking. And for the first time in more than a millennia, the goddess felt helpless.

            ~~~~~

            Lara could hear voices, talking softly just above where she was lying. She thought about opening her eyes, but a gentle thought trickled through her mind, telling her to keep them closed. She followed the suggestion, not really knowing why.

            "I wish you'd stop doing that; she knows more than she should. Your actions aren't helping us in any way." An old man's voice, deep and powerful but tinged with bitterness.

            "She's entitled to know, especially if we ask this task of her." The voice of the young man from Maddox's bedroom.

            "A dangerous task." Another young male voice, full of compassion. "She has already suffered much because of our inadequacies. And such a heavy burden already on her heart, so alone…"

            "Ah, but such a spirit. There is fight left in her—if she survives." A female voice, lilting yet strong. 

            "She will survive, I've seen to that." A man's voice, older than her 'friend's' and firm with conviction yet tempered by a slight worry. "My sister needs to be returned to us."

            "And soon. Twilight is drawing near for them all." The old man. "I want you to watch over her, help her when you can. Try to keep her from harm, we will not be able to save her if she is brought to us a second time."

            "I will do all I can." Her 'friend' and now, apparently, appointed guardian, sounded firm. 

            There was a sound like the rustling of cloth and then silence.

            Her guardian's voice was close as he crouched beside her. "Listen carefully, Lara. You have to go to Greece and find the key before you can stop this madness." He took a breath. "Now open your eyes, Lara…"

            _Open your eyes…._

            The first thing she saw was white, and then a steady beeping.

            She looked to her left, catching sight of an EKG. The pieces rapidly fell into place as she looked around. A hospital.

            The rustle of cloth drew her attention, and she caught sight of the young man from that night with Maddox, her new 'bodyguard', standing by the door, holding her clothes in one hand. 

            She could have laughed in pure joy as she sat up, effortlessly sliding from the bed and padding across the room to grab her clothes. She just smiled instead as the man averted his eyes, looking at the ceiling.

            "How long have I..?" she asked, her stomach flip flopping at the thrill of wiggling her toes as she laced up her boots.

            "Three days of your time," he answered. "Much has happened since then, none of it good. We are running out of time." Lara tapped him on the shoulder and he brought his eyes to hers.

            "What's happened…?" she trailed off, questioning.

            "Marc, call me Marc for now." He grinned slightly, the glimmer returning to his eyes. "And I'll fill you in on the plane." He paused, opening the door and leading her out into the hall and into the elevator. "That is, if we can still get a flight out of here."

            Lara looked at him quizzically as the elevator doors shut, but held her questions. For the moment.

            The moment the pair stepped out of the hospital, Marc let go of a mental thread, and the EKG alarm back in Lara's room went off, squealing as the flat line from the disconnected leads appeared. A nurse came racing in, stopping short when she saw the empty bed. She stepped up to the bed gingerly, checking the chart before staring in disbelief at the discarded hospital gown lying on the floor.

            Above her head, CNN was showing a map of the world. Some countries were shaded blue, others red, and still others remained unshaded. Photos from a recent rocket attack flashed on the screen, tanks racing past the crumbled mud homes.

            While the bewildered nurse ran to get the doctor, while Lara and her companion were flagging down a cab to the airport, the world was picking sides.  


	7. Into the Dark

VII-Into the Dark

            Lara looked up from the scuba tanks at her feet, taking a moment to drink in the scenery. The bright blue water of the southern Aegean Sea glittered in the sun, lapping softly against the sides of the pleasure craft. The small island of Kimolos, green and peppered with exposed rock, jutted out of the water a quarter of a mile away. Excluding a few distant fishing boats the day before, she was alone, over ninety miles from the heart of Athens. 

            It was a great day to do a little diving.

            She turned her attention back to the tanks in front of her, making sure that the air within was flowing. Satisfied that it worked, she turned around, fastening a weight belt around her waist over the black wetsuit that she wore. 

            "Almost ready?"

            Lara looked behind her. Marc was sitting on edge of the boat's low stern, clad in his own dive gear, tightening a strap on his tanks. 

            "Almost," she replied, reaching for the wicked-looking dive knife on a nearby bench. She fastened the long knife against her calf, the sun warmed plastic sheath hot against her bare skin. 

            While she hated rushing things, Lara understood his need for haste: the world was indeed going mad. They'd barely made it to Greece in the first place, beating out the travel restrictions that most governments had put in place. The world economy was fluctuating wildly, and it had cost Lara more than one pretty penny to get the equipment, provisions, and weapons that they needed. A handy brick, empty guard shack, and a little skill at a pricy boating club dock had gotten them the boat, a knife-like Sunseeker Predator 75. Not too bad, Lara mused, even if it didn't have the…helpful…modifications that her own back home sported. She had no qualms about "borrowing" the boat; there was a war on, after all. 

            They had been listening to the boat's radio nonstop since they had left the shore. All around the world, governments were either crumbling or coming into conflict with each other. The Korean peninsula was in a state of open war, and Russia and China were starting to trade threats. The government in Mexico had been completely overthrown, the chaos spreading like wildfire into South America with coup after coup. A hastily-forged Iran-Iraq-Saudi alliance had already taken over diminutive Kuwait and Qatar, and was beginning to mass troops along the Israeli border. India, Pakistan, Bosnia, Palestine…and of course, the United States caught with its fingers in all of the pies. It was as if every bitter rivalry and political dispute had exploded in one horrible moment, the pressure cooker of global conflict finally blowing its lid.

            And all Lara and her guardian could do was push the boat's throttles to their stops, filled with a terrible and inexplicable urge to hurry. 

            Marc helped fit her tanks onto her shoulders before they both fitted their masks onto their faces. A thumbs up, and he leaned back, falling into the water with a splash. Lara slipped the regulator between her teeth, holding a hand to her mask as she too left the boat, the water closing over her in a flurry of bubbles. 

            She righted herself a moment later, looking around her and getting her bearings. The water remained clear under the surface, shafts of yellow light sparkling down through the blue-green depths. Marc was just to the right of her, gesturing for her to follow him as he started swimming towards the base of the island. Lara was right behind him, cutting through the water like an arrow, her eyes searching all around her for any sign of anything unusual. They continued on like that for several minutes, the silence of the ocean covering them like a blanket. 

            The base of the island came up suddenly in front of them, a wall of stark rock towering above them. Lara's eyes widened when she realized that a doorway had been carved into the stone, surrounded by ornate carved figures and gods in the style of the ancient Greeks. Poseidon with his trident, surrounded by Oceanids—sea nymphs. Lara had seen odd things throughout the world, but the idea of Greek statuary carved underneath the ocean…

            Her partner stopped in the water, checking to make sure that she was still behind him. She gave him the thumbs up and he nodded, turning back to the task at hand and stroking through the water straight towards the yawning darkness of the carved doorway. Lara followed him without hesitation, drinking in the details of the water around her as if she could sense incoming danger through the liquid. 

            They were forced to switch on the dive lights strapped to their wrists within ten feet of the cave's entrance, the stone of the entrance tunnel they were in closing off the light like a black hole. The temperature of the water dropped a few degrees, making Lara shiver involuntarily before her body heated the water trapped between the suit and her skin. Experienced in cave diving, she didn't let any of this bother her, following Marc and occasionally sweeping her light over the solid stone walls around them.

            They swam in the darkness for over twenty minutes, occasionally passing by natural and man-made tunnels veering off at right angles to the tunnel they were in, plunging deeper into the darkness. Marc continued forward, following the main tunnel as it curved around, quickly becoming a maze. Yet Lara kept following him, trusting that he knew where he was going. 

            The tunnel took several more twists and turns before grey slate tiles appeared out of the darkness below them, angling upwards. Lara reached her hand out, pressing her palm against the stone for guidance as she kept following Marc, looking up and trying to make out any sort of exit in front of them.

            It was so dark above the surface of the water that Lara didn't know that they had reached the surface until her tanks became heavy on her back, breaking the surface of the water and losing their buoyancy. She and Marc both stood up, using their wrist lights to cut through the gloom. 

            They were standing in a small, narrow grotto, no bigger than an average living room. The floor was covered knee-deep in water, making the air smell dank and musty, slime and algae glistening on the walls in the light from their lamps. 

            "Almost there." Marc's disembodied voice rang out in the darkness, the beam of his wrist light shining on a doorway thirty feet in front of them. "This will be easier if we leave the gear."

            Lara didn't argue with him, quickly slipping out of her dive gear, setting it all on a small ledge protruding from the side of the grotto and Marc followed her example. He  turned to face her in the darkness, his light sweeping over her to make sure she was behind him. 

            "You might want to stay behind me; this place is pretty dangerous."

            "I'll keep that in mind." Lara's voice dripped with sarcasm.

            "Oh. Sorry." She could hear the grimace in his tone and smirked satisfactorily. 

            They sloshed forward through the water without any further conversation, aiming straight for the doorway. Lara strained to hear the smallest sounds in the darkness, carefully scrutinizing the rock around her for any sign of clues or danger.

            Which was why she jumped when Marc went flying backwards as if hit by a car, barely avoiding a collision with her as he was thrust back for a dozen feet, landing in the water on his back, his head disappearing under the surface.

            Lara had her dive knife out before she knew it, searching the blackness in front of her with her light as she quickly stepped backwards, seeing nothing but motionless rock. She sent little waves rippling out as her hand plunged under the surface, grabbing onto a part of Marc's wetsuit and hauling his upper body above the water. Her eyes flicked rapidly from the doorway to his face, warily watching both as he coughed and gasped, spitting out a mouthful of water, looking dazed.

            "Wha--?"

            "Sssh!" Lara hissed, searching the darkness with all of her senses. She knew from experience that just because she couldn't see anything didn't mean that it wasn't out there…

            She whirled when she saw something shimmer out of the corner of her eye, whirling around, holding her dive light and knife out in front of her.

            Nothing, just the empty doorway. She was just turning away to search the darkness when she saw the shimmering again. This time, she turned slowly, sweeping the dive light over the area experimentally. 

            It was so subtle that it was no surprise they'd missed it the first time. A faint, nearly translucent blue shimmer filled the doorway, shifting and swirling like vapor, only visible when Lara's light swept over it, its reflection visible on the water.

            Marc had slowly regained his feet beside her, holding a hand to his head in an effort to staunch the trickle of blood leaking from a jagged cut on his temple. Lara turned to him, still holding the light on the door so that the shimmer was visible.

            "Do you know what that is?"

            Marc peered at it a moment before frowning, looking unsettled. "I had not expected to find that here, much less one that still had power."

            "What is it?" Lara asked again.

            "A barrier, in a way," he said softly, stepping forward, an arm's length from the doorway. He gingerly reached his hand out, grimacing as his hand appeared to stop at a wall of solid air, shaking from some sort of violent force. He withdrew his hand, shaking it as if it had been smashed by a hammer, trying to ease the pain. "You'd call it magic, a bit of ancient sorcery designed to keep…individuals…like me out of places as powerful as this." He glanced at her, and then back at the doorway. "You could get through it."

            Lara looked at him for a moment before taking a step forward. A part of her could scarcely believe what she was doing as she lifted her hand, slowly lifting it to where she knew the blue shimmer filled the doorway, fingers outstretched. She didn't realize that she'd gritted her teeth, slowly reaching out…

            …and almost falling forward as her hand passed right through. Lara gently let out the breath she had been holding, looking back at Marc. 

            "What's back there?" Lara's tone gave him no room to even consider anything but the truth, cold and razor-sharp. 

            He sighed heavily, wiping blood from his forehead, cleaning it from unmarred skin. "A safeguard that's turned into a mistake," he said, looking grave. "Tiny pieces of each member of the pantheon, placed within physical vessels, assuring an eternal presence on the Earth, irregardless of how many remained faithful."

            Lara's eyes widened a little as the pieces started falling into place. She knew that she was dealing with something beyond the normal, but this…"You were dying out," she said softly.

            He nodded barely, "A crude way to put it, but yes-- losing our hold on the world." He shifted his feet as he shifted the scope of the conversation. "There was another site like this one at another location, but it was plundered hundreds of years ago." His eyes focused on hers. "Most of them were destroyed over time, but others survived, which is how you came into brief possession of one of these vessels. But until now no one has known just how powerful those vessels are. Someone is essentially holding a god to their will. We'll have to take the other vessel from this site before we can regain control from this person."

            Her eyes slid over to the doorway, staring it down as if it were a physical enemy. "Which one? Mars?" Lara felt something ugly twist in her stomach, thinking of the violent firestorms racing over the globe as she said the ancient, savage war god's name.

            Marc shook his head slowly. "Not exactly. Athena."

            She bit her bottom lip, thinking for a moment, before taking a step towards the door, flipping the knife in her hand with a wry smile. "Alright then, off to recapture a Greek goddess of war." 

            She stepped through the door without another word, the blackness swallowing her completely, leaving Marc to wait in the dripping gloom. 

            ~~~~~      

            a/n: I know this took a while and wasn't too gripping, but hang on, it's coming…

            a/n2: I started this whole thing before the current Iraq, N. Korea conflicts. A real eye-opener I guess…


	8. Convergence of the Parallel

            VIII-Convergence of the Parallel 

            Lara took a step into the dark corridor, keeping the knife and dive light ahead of her as her senses searched the murk. That familiar, inexplicable feeling washed over her, a heady mix of adrenaline, caution, and exhilaration.

            The tomb raider was in her element.

            Her neoprene dive boots squelched on the thin layer of slime coating the stone tiles of the ramp underfoot. Her light shone against the rock sides of the narrow corridor, the darkness devouring the beam before she could see the end of the ramp.

            Lara's eyes searched all around her, searching for traps, as she made her way up the slope. A few long, silent minutes passed before the beam from her light cut through the empty air, the sides of the corridor falling behind her as she stepped into a large chamber. 

            The air was not as damp here, but still held a noticeable hint of must and decay. Switching the knife to her other hand, she reached into a small pouch at her hip, cracking a glowstick between her fingers before throwing it into the darkness in front of her. A second later it hit rock with a clatter, throwing out a fluorescent ball of green light against the wall. She took out another glowstick, turning a few degrees and throwing it as far as she could, continuing like that until she tossed out her last one.

            The chamber, about half the length and width of a football pitch and no more than two stories high, was filled with weak light from the glowsticks, casting eerie shadows on the rough stone walls. Lara spun around slowly, peering closely at everything around her.

            Simple in both design and decoration, Lara could immediately tell that it was beyond ancient, more than likely dating back to the very root of Greek civilization. Crude carvings and faded symbols peppered the walls above twenty raised daises evenly spaced along the wall. And there, sitting at eye level on top of each dais, was a small, simple statue, drawing Lara's eyes to them like magnets.

            The discovery only made Lara more cautious as she stepped to the closest dais, studying the figure and the symbols above it with a critical eye.

            "Hestia. Not quite…" she murmured to herself, stalking over to the next dais. And then next. And still moving on the one after.

            She was opposite of her starting point when her eyes fell on the next statue in front of her, a tiny chill traveled over her spine as the memories flashed through her brain

_            The helicopter swooped low directly over her, barely clearing the treetops as the door gunner let out a spray of rounds, peppering her with shredded bits of branches and kicking up plumes of dirt barely two feet to her left. The rotors screamed ahead of her as the pilot banked hard, coming around for another pass_

_            They were quickly getting tired of chasing her; she was running on borrowed time now._

_            She slammed to a halt, heels digging into the half-frozen ground as the militiamen burst out of the trees, dark shadows against the deepening purple darkness of the night forest. They yelled wildly as flame sputtered from the muzzles of their weapons, firing at the blurred shadow of their prey racing in front of them._

_            Lara was halfway over a low stone wall, sailing through the air in a clean vault, within sight of her Land Rover parked at the edge of the fallow field, when a bullet rebounded off of the loose rock to bury itself in her upper back. _

_            A gout of blood sprayed through the air and she staggered when her feet hit the ground, the breath rushing out of her lungs. Her knees crashed into the black dirt for a moment before she dug her fingers in, flinging herself back to her feet, sheer willpower keeping her legs moving. She did her best to clear her mind of any panic or fear, eyes glued to the vehicle parked next to the ramshackle barn, growing closer with every footstep. Lara refused to pay attention to the feel of blood trickling hot down her back, chest, and stomach, soaking into the fabric of her pants.  _

_            But Lara kept running, her body screaming in pain as she stumbled over clods of dirt. And then she felt fingers scrabbling at her back, clawing at her braid and grabbing onto her backpack. She struggled against the hands just before they yanked her back, hauling her to the ground._

_            She kept fighting, her fists arcing through the air with everything she had, kicking out at the men as they fell on her in one frenzied pack….    _

Lara shook her head, snapping herself back to the present. Her eyes focused again on the slightly misshapen statue in front of her, uncomfortably familiar with the vaguely female shape holding the spear along her side. she studied the dais for a moment before her hand shot out, grabbing the statue tightly.

            She spun around in a circle, watching, ready to spring into action. She stood still for a minute more, almost expecting some sort of trap: darts, a collapsing floor, ferocious beasts, maybe even something a little more…supernatural. But all Lara could sense was the faint gurgle of water from the tunnel behind her.

             "Well then." Her voice echoed throughout the chamber as a smirk graced her lips. She spun on her heel, taking a few steps back to the chamber's entrance.    

            "Don't go."

            Lara whirled around, knife blade scything through the air reflexively, her eyes flashing. The sharp steel only cut through air with a hiss, leaving Lara face to face with a young woman, dressed in a simple white robe, her face hidden underneath a deep cowl.

            "Stay. There is only danger out there."

            Lara's eyes narrowed suspiciously, holding the knife in front of her, unwavering. "What sort of danger?"

            The woman took a soft step forward. "It wants you now; you won't be able to go that way." A delicately-boned finger pointed straight to the tunnel behind Lara. "But there is another way."

            "And what way is that?" Lara asked softly, shifting the blade just a little in her fingers. 

            "Stay and I will show you." The dark shadow in the woman's hood deepened as she took another step closer to Lara. Her lips were pressed in a thin, bloodless line, her skin a very pale bronze. The glowsticks were starting to die, their light weakening, but Lara didn't move, strangely rooted in place. 

            The woman took another step towards Lara, her face barely a foot from the adventurer's as her pale hands rose to the edge of her cowl, drawing it back off of her head. Her thin lips curved upwards in a seductive smile, the black depths of her empty eye sockets searching Lara's with an eerie intensity that she could feel. She raised her arm, fingers reaching towards Lara's cheek.

            "Stay, and I will show you everything…"

            Lara blinked slowly, taking in a deep breath, watching the thin hand draw nearer…

            …and then watching as it fell to the ground, severed by the knife gripped tightly in Lara's hand. 

            The woman howled, her rage echoing off the stone walls as she lurched forward, reaching for Lara, her good hand straining for the statue in Lara's hip pouch. But the other woman was already racing for the tunnel, a few steps ahead of the phantasm. 

            Lara entered the tunnel at a dead sprint, feet flying over the slate tiles. She had barely taken a few steps when she slipped on the slime underfoot, completely losing her footing and crashing to the floor with a yelp of pain. She kept tumbling down the ramp, sliding and careening down the incline. The woman glided right over the surface, rapidly closing the distance between them, the fingers of her good hand reaching….

            Unable to stop or control her momentum, Lara stuck out a hand, her fingers scraping against jagged rock as she tumbled out of control, sunbursts of pain flashing every time she hit. She bounced off the tiles one last time before plunging headfirst into the shallow water of the grotto, slamming her temple on the rough stone beneath the murky water, reeling as water flooded into her open mouth and nose. Lara pushed against the floor reflexively, bursting above the surface just to see the woman screaming as she leapt into the air, ready to pounce.

            The instant she reached the doorway with the blue shimmer, she froze, shrieking and writhing in the grip of some invisible force. She shuddered, faster and faster, as if she were a rag doll being shaken by a dog. She shrieked even louder, her body a white blur, the instant before she exploded. Tiny fragments of dust and grit, all that remained of the woman, showered the air, spraying the water and peppering Lara. 

            She suddenly felt hands on her, twisting around to see who it was, prepared to fight them off. She relaxed the second she saw Marc's face above her, pushing herself out of the water to her feet. He eyed her, then the pouch at her hip.

            "Are you alright? Did you get it?"

            Lara nodded, wading through the water for her dive gear and putting it back on. "We need to get out of here."

            Marc didn't argue, getting back into his gear and leading the way down the incline the way they had come, the water rising until he slipped under the surface, a trail of bubbles appearing under the beam of Lara's light. She slipped her regulator into her mouth as the cool water rose to her chest, taking one last look around the dark grotto before she too sank under the water, swimming after the beam of Marc's light. 

            The trip outside of the warren of tunnels and passageways went by faster this time, yet Lara did not let her guard down for an instant, her light sweeping the passage ahead of her.

            She rounded one last corner and a patch of bright blue appeared, beckoning from the darkness of the tunnels. Marc shut off his dive light, and Lara did the same, swimming for the square patch of sun-filtered water ahead. Barely five feet behind him, she was looking sideways at the side of the tunnel just as Marc popped free into the bright blueness. When she looked forward a second later, he was gone.

            She looked up and to her left, following a dense string if bubbles, her hand flying back to her knife. Marc was struggling against something almost as big as he was, slender and gray, beating at it with his hands and twisting haphazardly. Whatever he was fighting, it was beginning to gain the upper hand, rapidly pushing him down and away from her. Instead of feeling fear, a calculating part of her kicked in as she instinctively kicked forward.

            Lara had barely moved a few feet before she felt something hard slam into her legs. She whirled, holding the knife at the ready, watching as a grey shape hurtled by, inches from her. In one second she could see the delicate feminine features, the smooth stone skin, blue eyes glowing brightly with rage and determination. A dull crumbling sound carried from behind her through the water and Lara felt something sink deep in her stomach, sparing a glance behind her. 

            The carved Oceanid figures were pushing themselves from the rock of the island, bits of stone falling to the bottom of the ocean as they separated themselves with a dull cracking noise. A dozen glowing blue eyes glared at her, almost staring her down for a moment, before the group of statues burst into a seething fury, churning the water around them as they sped straight for her. 

            She spun around in the water, kicking furiously with her fins for the surface, pointing in the general direction of their boat. She focused on the surface glittering about twenty feet above her head, her resolve to reach it iron-hard. Her arms stretched up, sweeping through the water, fingers almost straining to break through to the air above.

            Lara's hand broke the surface, grasping at the air above just as hard, stony hands closed around her ankles, her legs, dragging her down. 

            _They set upon her like hounds on the fox, circling around her in a dense pack. The air was filled with fists and grabbing hands and her legs thrashing out at the militia soldiers, trying to find a way out. Always fighting; she no longer knew how to give up, forgotten years ago, didn't even consider it—_

Pointed nails and granite fingers dug into her wetsuit, tearing furrows through the neoprene and shallowly down her back. Hands clawed at her braid, her arms, pulling and dragging her in different directions all at once.

            _A pair of hands latched  onto her shoulder, fingers digging purposefully into the bloody exit wound. She couldn't stop the dull scream that tore from her throat, almost hating herself for it as she swung with her good arm towards the body connected to those hands, those fingers curled inside of her—_

A hand scrabbled at her hip pouch, she kicked out, knocking it away, her hand instinctively brushing against the statue to make sure to was still there.

            _One of the rebels grabbed her hand in midair, forcing it to the dirt and pinning her while her tormenter took his fingers from her wound, pinning her other side to the cold ground. She twisted and writhed for a few seconds, hoping for freedom, then lay still, realizing it was useless. Anger and pain burned in her eyes as a head appeared over the ring of militiamen surrounding and pinning her, followed by a body, clothed in camouflaged fatigues. The man looked down on her, his face as blank as stone, eyes searching her. The gold star embroidered on his collar glittered a little in the last scraps of light as he crouched beside her, his hand delving into her pack. He came up with the statue, looking at it critically, and then at her, still silent—_

The regulator was ripped from her mouth and she held her breath as she lashed out at the stone nymphs, her hands slicing through the water in practiced maneuvers. Lara's hands went numb after colliding with the rock, doing absolutely no damage. A nymph brought her face within inches of Lara, gnashing her teeth with a cruel smile before darting off, her companions tugging on Lara, harder and harder each time. Their frenzy had increased: they weren't going to stop until they had quite literally torn her apart. Her hand flew to her waist, slipping into the pouch, gripping the statue with her hand as she was pulled in every direction. She closed her eyes, trying to focus.

            _The officer kept looking at her for the longest time before he spoke. She caught a few of the words, her head pounding from the pain. He called her foolish, a thief. She just glared at him, her lips pulled into a thin, taunting smile._

_            And then he nodded at one of the soldiers and the fists flew through the air, pummeling her as the men laughed at her, calling out to each other. She thrashed against the ground, feeling more hot blood on her skin each time she moved, but she kept trying to fight them. The fist looming square in her vision only stayed there for a moment, and then there was nothing._

A single thought. Elements of a hope, a wish, a last desperate gamble, maybe, except for the fact that she never entertained either of those three. Just her hand on the statue, concentrating with her eyes closed as the nymphs shot away from her as if burned, scraping against each other in stony confusion before racing into the distance, leaving Lara as quickly as they could.

            Placing her regulator back between her lips, Lara swam towards the surface, trailing a thin, thin film of blood from the scratches on her back, a tiny bit of fearful awe starting to grow in the very deep depths of her heart, germinating as her head broke the surface of the sea. 

a/n: Again, I want to point out that I started this well before the current 'Iraq situation'—I did not write this to put Lara in modern events, and especially not entertain the muse with the current conflict.  

And how ABOUT that TR2 trailer??!! 

            __

      


	9. Diving Into Chaos

            IX- Diving Into Chaos

            The night was black around the boat, only a pale glimmer of light shimmering on the waves from the sliver of moon overhead. 

            The blackness was a comfort to Lara, enfolding her like a blanket and sharing in her numbness. A warm breeze blew over her skin and she wriggled her toes, her bare feet sticking just over the stern's edge, leaning nonchalantly against one of the scuba tanks lying on the fantail. She resisted the brief urge to look just a little to her left, where the battleground that Athens had become threw a dull orange glow into the sky from the fires quickly spreading through it. 

            Lara pushed the memory of  the sounds of gunfire and even mortars echoing through the city to the back of her mind. They could see the rioting through binoculars as they drew closer to the docks, figures carrying weapons scurrying from building to building. A small, slightly scorched naval patrol boat had sped up to them, its loudspeaker blaring for them to stop their engines and prepare for boarders. 

            Marc had acted before Lara told him to, whipping the boat around and jamming the throttles all the way forward. They had jolted forward as the twin performance engines kicked in, pushing them forward at nearly 37 knots. The slightly smaller naval boat leapt to follow them, churning froth behind it the instant before a man popped out from a small building shore side, sending a shoulder-fired rocket straight into it. The powerful yacht kept roaring forward as another man stepped up to the one with the launcher, helping him to reload. By the time they were finished, Lara and her companion were out of range, watching as a mortar round landed straight on the two men's heads. She'd turned her back on the whole insanity.   

            There was a small splash in the water a few feet below her toes and she leaned forward, snatching up the powerful search flashlight from beside her and turning it on.

            An Oceanid, blue eyes glowing just below the surface, let out a distorted shriek, flailing its thin arms to cover its eyes before whirling back into the depths. Lara turned off the light, setting it back beside her with a small, cool smile. 

            "It's a good thing that they can't breach the surface, or else they'd be snacking on your ankles by now."

            Lara kept watching the dark waves in front of her for a moment.

            "Those persistent little bitches are welcome to try," she said, looking over her shoulder at Marc, who carried two plastic cups and a large thermos. 

            "How are your wounds?" He sat next to her on the deck, unscrewing the thermos and pouring a dark red liquid into the cups, handing one to Lara.

            "They're just scratches; I've been worse off before." She took a sip from the cup, still gazing out distantly over the water.

            "Limnio?" she asked absently.

            He smiled wryly. "Basically; this variety is a bit stronger. I think it's called for." The ever-present mirth in his voice melted away at his last words.

            Lara took another swallow, trying not to think. "How much longer until we reach Turkey?"

            "A while yet…if our luck holds out and we have enough fuel." He looked slightly grim. 

            "I make my own luck," Lara said, almost reflexively, before bringing the cup back to her lips. 

            Marc smiled softly. "I like that kind of spirit."

            Her face was a mask, hiding any true emotion, as she lowered the cup from her lips. "I'm sure." She took another slow sip, still staring out at the ocean. "As far as chat up lines go, you're going to have to try much harder."

            Marc's smile grew. "I think you're mistaking me with my arrow-wielding cousin."

            Lara wasn't in the mood for games, setting her empty cup on the deck and standing up slowly, frowning as the scratches on her back protested the movement. She looked down at him, eyes cold. 

            "Thank you for the wine," she said, every ounce of her upper-class training in her voice.  She didn't stay for another moment, turning on one heel and striding towards the steps leading up into the boat's main deck. 

            "You don't have to be alone, Lara." His voice cut through the air, straight to her heart, inexplicably freezing her in place as if invisible hands had grasped her firmly by the shoulders.

            "Admit it, behind that fierce adventurer, the adrenaline-hungry explorer, there's a woman who is sick of being by herself. The same woman, but three separate parts…" His voice was closer now, directly behind her.

            "Are you a psychologist now?" Lara asked tersely, tone dripping with bitter sarcasm. She knew exactly who she was, knew the choices she'd made, had grabbed her life by the tail and yanked.

            Hadn't she?

            That small voice again, whispering rare doubts in her ear. She couldn't afford to doubt herself, not now, not ever. 

            "No, but I'm certainly not blind." His voice again, warm, undemanding.

            She shook herself from the bond of his voice, climbing the first step. "I think you're searching for things that aren't there."

            Suddenly his hand was on her arm, fingers firmly gripping her just above her elbow, stopping her in her tracks. It took every scrap of self control Lara had to curb her instincts and deliver a left hook straight to his face. 

            Murder flashed in her eyes and her words were steel, each word emphasized. "Let me go." Her hands balled up into fists. 

            "Stop hurting yourself." His eyes sought hers with an intensity she'd never seen before. 

            "I'm not—" 

            He stepped up to the same level as her, his eyes still locked with hers, looking at her silently as the air almost crackled between them, something in the look he was giving her forcing her to face something deep within herself.

            The voice of doubt whispered louder, fueling uncertainty. Something deep within her burst loose, trampling her inner defenses as if they were made of rice paper instead of steel. Uncharacteristic fear, unchained, oozed around her heart, and she recoiled, seeking the stoic calm that was part of her being, suddenly confused. 

            He seemed to read her confusion, and his grip on her arm shifted, becoming more comforting than urgent. He leaned towards her..

            …and her inner defenses slammed back into place, as unyielding as ever. She drew back a little, shaking his hand from her arm, her eyes flashing.

            "I've a job to do and I'd like to get it over with as soon as possible. I don't care what you've been charged with; I'll do this by myself if you keep up with your mind games."

            She didn't let him say anything in response, turning her back to him and walking evenly back up the steps into the boat, disappearing from view. He stood there for a moment, thinking before he sat back down on the fantail, watching the glow from the distant fires of Athens as the Oceanids scraped against the hull, shrieking under the waves.

            In her cabin, Lara stared at the ceiling for hours, her thoughts and emotions roiling before physical and mental exhaustion overtook her and she fell into another fitful sleep.

            ~~~~~

            The general on the video screen shifted in his seat, the only sign of discomfort that showed through his gruff, weathered exterior. 

            Discomfort was good, Gryner mused. It showed weakness, a loss of power, the appearance of a soft belly for him to tear into. 

            He stepped around the corner of the conference table, walking closer to the screen as if the general really were in the room. He absently noted how some of the executives seated around the table leaned forward in their chairs, greedily anticipating the deal, while others looked nervous, avoiding his gaze and looking uncomfortable in their seats. Gryner took note of the latter, he would have to deal with them later.

            "Let's be straight with each other here, General. What's happened is that the Department of Defense never planned on a conflict of this scale, and with the recent downsizing and disarmaments, you're finding yourself a little under equipped. What material you do have is spread far too thin, and it's costing you men and ground."

            The man shifted again, stiffly in his uniform, his eyes narrowing. "Your point, Mr.—"

            "My point, General," Gryner smiled tightly, "is that you need us, and that ADT, our corporation, is perfectly able to supply you with the means to win this war."

            The other man didn't waste any time. "This may be, but what will this all cost?"

            Gryner slipped a palm pilot out of his pocket, quickly scribbling out a figure onto it before pressing a button. The general's eyes flicked over to a point off camera before widening. A second later, surprise was replaced by scorn.

            "Sir, even if I felt that your proposal was worthwhile—which you've given me no reason to believe it is—I would never be able to get you that amount."

            "Are you certain, General?" Gryner hit another button on the palm pilot, and a wireframe hologram sprang up over the middle of the conference table, rotating over the heads of the executives and casting a green glow on their upturned faces in the dim room. 

            "The AP-6. You'll find not only does it outperform your Bradley fighting vehicles, but it's about ten years ahead of your Strykers, and those have yet to be deployed. Our research with nuclear miniaturization allows for the compact fission reactor, which eliminates the fuel need for this vehicle while increasing its top speed. Advanced automation means that only one soldier is needed to operate all aspects of the vehicle; two soldiers if you want more accurate operation of the .50 caliber machine gun on top."

            Gryner turned away from the image for a moment, nodding to an assistant seated in front of a laptop, watching as the man typed in a command and punched 'enter', nodding back at him.

            "As a gesture of our good faith, I am enclosing our own private specifications, research reports, and test results. The test reports alone prove that the AP-6's weapon system is not only more lethal than that of your acclaimed M1A1 Abrams tank, but that it destroys them as well." He paused for a moment, looking straight at the General, who was again looking offscreen. "The AP-6 isn't the only technology we've been working on." The hologram above the table changed, slowly rotating through a series of wireframe models of helicopters, small patrol boats, armored vehicles, and aircraft. "The full data on all of these are attached with the specifications you're currently looking at."

            The uniformed man's eyes focused back on Gryner. "I'm very impressed, Mr. Gryner, but it's a little late to be asking for development money."  

            Gryner's lips pressed together in a thin line as he wrestled with a wave of inner rage. This man was so small-minded…

            "I'm not asking for development money, General, I'm allowing you to place a bid on units that have already been built. ADT already has enough units built to furnish AP-6's to all of your mechanized infantry and armor units deployed in two of your three theatres, F-29's to two of your carrier wings, and H-43's to an aviation brigade of your choosing. Naturally, we'll include the necessary personnel to train your soldiers, but the extensive automation should allow you to have all of this operational within weeks. By the end of the month, production levels will allow us to outfit the third theatre as well as the remaining carrier wings." He tried not to look smug. "It's all just a matter of funding."

            The general smiled. "How quickly can you make this happen?" 

            Gryner kept his features schooled, while inside he was celebrating his near-victory. "As soon as we receive the amount I requested."

            Again, the man looked off the screen, gesturing to someone before he turned back to Gryner. "Start shipping as soon as possible." The image of the general winked out, replaced with a blank blue screen as he ended the call.

            Gryner turned to face those seated around the table. "Let's make that happen." Most of the executives stood then, filtering from the room, except for one middle-aged man, who remained by his chair, looking evenly across the table at Gryner. 

            "Nicholas, as a senior member of the board, I feel that I must object to this deal you've made."

            Small-minded…

            "I don't see why, Steven. You seem like the last one who would object to this…especially given the profit involved."

            A sour expression flitted over the other man's face. "Ordinarily…but you realize that you're about to escalate the current conflict?"

            The younger man leaned forward, conveying earnestness. "I'm not escalating, I'm trying to end this before it gets worse."

            "I saw the specifications list you sent to that general. There's more than weapons systems on there, you're selling him biological agents and nuclear technology that we've been developing—"

            "Technology you approved for development."

            "But never for sale!"

            "That's a rather fine line to be walking, don't you think?" He reached into his coat pocket. Fingers closing around the weapon there. It was only a matter of time before it came to this…

            Minutes later he gave a pointed glance to the assistant, who was standing behind the laptop looking coolly at his employer, and the spreading bloodstain on the floor. 

            "Clean this up."

            The man nodded, picking up a phone from the table as Gryner left the room.

            ~~~~~

            _The first thing that hit Lara when she regained consciousness was the pain. Waves of it, threatening to drown her with the sudden intensity, radiated from the bullet wound in her back and shoulder._

_            She opened her eyes, a low groan escaping her lips. _

_            Night had fallen while she was out, and it was nearly pitch black. She was lying on the ground in a clearing, her injured shoulder against the cold dirt. Her feet were bound with plastic ties, her hands handcuffed and fastened to a long stake planted in the ground several feet away with a chain. A small fire snapped and popped about five feet from her, and she could see a guard sitting on a crate by the stake from the light it gave off. _

_            The initial wave of pain lessened fractionally, and she became aware of what her senses were telling her. She was hungry, her mouth dry with thirst, and cold to the bone. She shifted just a tiny bit on the ground, trying to get a little closer to the fire, and sucked in a breath as pain ripped through her. She could feel a crude bandage over the wound in her shoulder, the rough cotton of the rag rubbing painfully inside the wound where some medic had crudely tried to stop the bleeding by sticking it directly into the exit wound. The wound felt wet and oozing, burning slightly around the edges from the beginnings of an infection, and dried blood caked her back and stomach. Her face hurt terribly: she could feel a split lip and bruises; the swelling must have gone down.  _

_            The guard, seeing her move, stood up from his crate. She lay still, watching him as he walked over to her. He crouched next to her, and she saw that he wore a sidearm; a junior officer then, most likely._

_            "Awake?" His English was roughened by a thick accent._

_            "I'm awake." She responded in Serbian, hoping she wasn't rusty._

_            "Good." He gestured to someone behind her. _

_            She licked her lips in a futile effort to make speaking easier. "What do you want with me?"_

_            He shook his head. "You're a spy and a thief, English, that makes this," he pointed to the handcuffs, "necessary." He picked a stick up from by his feet, twirling it absently between his fingers._

_            "I'm not a spy, I'm an archeologist." Now was not the time to reenter the 'thief' debate. "This is a mistake."_

_            "I don't think so." He looked up for a moment at someone Lara couldn't see, and then back at her. "Our commander thinks you're a spy, English. Tell us the truth, that you are, and we'll take your handcuffs off and get you to a doctor. We'll get you stitched back up, and then some food. You must be hungry."_

_            Even if Lara was a spy, she wouldn't have given in to an offer that transparent. She pressed her lips together, clearing the pain from her mind. "I'm not lying to you. I'm not a bloody spy."_

_            The friendly façade fell away from the officer's face. "We will see." He leaned forward, jabbing the stick at her shoulder. She couldn't hold back the yelp, trying to roll away from him._

_            He dropped the stick as he stood, looking down at her for a moment before he sat back on the crate. "I'll be here, if you change your mind."_

_            She didn't say anything, closing her eyes, trying to purge every scrap of pain and discomfort from her mind. The hours passed, the cold and pain worsening as the night lengthened. _

_            It was among one of the longest nights of Lara's life, and she wasn't entirely dismayed when the shock caught up with her and slammed her back into unconsciousness just before the sun rose. _

Lara's eyes opened slowly and she groaned as sleep fled from her, flinging her arm over her eyes. She'd never felt so weary before; she couldn't remember the last time she had slept, free from the nightmare that followed her. She sat up in bed, the sheets twisted around her waist, and ran a hand through her unbound hair.

            There were two soft knocks at her door and Marc stuck his head through. "We're being tied up at the pier now. Your associate radioed; promised he'd be there when we arrived."

            She stood up and stretched, not really caring that she was in her underwear. She reached into the duffel on the floor, pulling out a clean pair of shorts and slipping into them. 

            "Faris will be there. He's quite faithful…especially when there's money to be earned." She tugged a white tank top over her head before twisting her hair into her standard braid.

            "I distrust him already," Marc said, lifting his eyes from the floor. Lara pulled on her boots, quickly lacing them before grabbing her twin gunbelt from where it was slung over the back of a chair, Berettas and all, fastening it around her hips and thighs.

            "I would too, if I were you." Lara smiled mysteriously, slinging her backpack—the precious figurine inside—over her shoulder and breezily walking past him to the main deck. He followed her without another word.

            Lara was already walking down the gangway, hand extended to a gruff looking Turkish man who stood at the edge of the dock.

            "Lara!" he smiled broadly. Marc knew all about thieves, and this man's smile screamed that he was a shady character. Lara matched his fake smile with one of her own, shaking his hand firmly.

            "You should not have traveled; it's a wonder you even managed to get here. Everyone is closing their borders to most travelers."

            Lara looked nonchalant as Marc stood a pace off to her right. "This is an emergency, Faris."

            The man laughed. "Everything is these days."

            Lara cut straight to the chase. "We need to get into the United States, the quicker the better."

            The man's smile melted away, eyes glittering at the talk of business. "I could get you to America, no problem. Getting you in easy, that is a little more complicated. Together…very expensive."

            Lara reached into her backpack, pulling out something solidly rectangular wrapped in transparent plastic. Marc wasn't so surprised to see that it was a brick of bank notes.

            "Two hundred and fifty thousand US dollars in mixed currency for the transportation and necessary papers."

            Faris held up his hands. "Lady Croft, it is good to see that you recall my business practices, but you know that I am the one who should be quoting the price here." He peered at the brick of cash on Lara's hand. "Besides, the way things are now, that is not enough."

            Lara looked pointedly at the nearly deserted streets of the town behind the man. "It appears to be a buyer's market here, Faris. Everyone who wants out is long gone." She paused for a moment, appearing to think, but Marc knew she was working on manipulating the man. A little concentration on his behalf softened the already weak mind of the swindler.

            "I'll give you the cash for the transportation, Faris, and the boat for the papers." She smiled slyly. "If you'll look belowdecks, you'll be quite impressed. It outran a Greek patrol ship…I'm sure you can find _some_ use for it."

            Marc could see the beads of the abacus clicking in the man's mind, schemes within schemes being hatched…

            "A deal, then, Lara." Faris smiled, taking the brick from Lara's hand with one of his left hand while shaking hers with his right. "The plane is waiting for you a little more than a mile from here. I have a car that will take you there. You will have the papers before you land."

            Lara was all business, looking over her shoulder at Marc. "Let's go then."

~~~~~

A/N: Blame my Dean for the lack of updates. Additionally, while I will be writing a lot on paper this summer (and will probably finish "Weakness"), I will not have access to a computer for posting until August (blame the government!). I know that this is a long time, but I ask that those of you out there following this story/ my work keep the faith and remember me—I promise I'll make it worth your while!


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